French Impressions: The Adventures of an American Family
by John S. Littell (Based on writings by Mary W. Littell)
Overview
From the Publisher
One steamy morning in the summer of 1950, Mary and Frank Littell-with their two young sons in tow-left America for a small working-class town in the South of France, where they spent one hilarious, unforgettable year. Filled with fascinating details of expatriate life, French Impressions is a riveting account of their (mis)adventures abroad.
My thoughts
Yep, you guessed it! Another bookcloseouts.com book! And an ... interesting ... one at that!
OK, I admit that I didn't like the book at first. I was appalled at the behavior of the children! No wonder Americans get a bad rap!! The parents don't do themselves any favors by being the most naive parents in Europe, perhaps the world! Who puts their baby and toddler into their beds in a strange hotel and then leaves them there alone, assuming they'll stay put? I mean, COME ON! How can a parent serve cider to a not-yet 2 year old for weeks without realizing it's hard cider? These people wore world class blinders!
But in spite of the misbehaving children and uninformed parents, the book is an interesting read. I found their shopping excursions quite interesting, and I loved the story about Thanksgiving. The children apparently survive into their own adulthood, as the book is written by one of the sons and is based on his mother's writings.
This book isn't tops on my list of books to read, but I will begrudgingly admit that I enjoyed it. A really nice touch was all the bits of French that made their way into the book. I liked that.
Favorite Passage
And our cafe did look a bit unkept. However, I noted that M. Surly, our waiter, had brought out three drinks: Coffee -- cold, of course -- menthe, and cider. Just the way we liked it.
"Frank we have to stop," I said, explaining the situation. "Just for a moment."
Never a man to pass up a drink, he instantly agreed that a libation might be in order, and the six of us crowded around one of the rickety tables.
"Don't get your dirty fingers in that," I told John, who was busy mixing his menthe.
"His hand is probably cleaner than the glass," Frank observed.
"Mo' side!" Stephen yelled, flailing his glass around as if he were leading an orchestra.
"He really likes it," I said to Molly and Peter. "He'd drink ten glasses of it if I'd let him."
"It keeps him quiet," John said. "And he takes his nap without crying."
That remark attracted Frank's interest. He peered directly into Stephen's face. The child was a bit flushed, but he always got red in the face when he was excited. Frank took the empty glass from him and sniffed it.
"Have you tasted this?" he asked me.
"No," I said. "I hate apple juice."
"You may hate apple juice," he said. "But you might like this."
He handed the glass to Peter, who sniffed it, laughed, and passed it on to Molly. Then the three of them were laughing, setting Stephen off. John and I looked at each other. We weren't laughing.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"Well, Carrie nation, scourge of the drinking man, you've been giving Stephen cider from Normandy," he said.
"So?" Cider was cider as far as I was concerned.
"It's about twenty proof -- stronger than wine," Frank said. "He's drunk."
